


Dean's Memory Drabbles

by sonofabitch_awesome



Series: Rewritten [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate History, Coda, Destiel - Freeform, Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, to a lot of episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofabitch_awesome/pseuds/sonofabitch_awesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The altered memories rushing into Dean's mind at the end of <i>Rewritten</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean's Memory Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> In _[Rewritten](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3399800)_ , I really wanted to write how everything had changed (how it had been _rewritten_ , haha) after Dean slightly alters the past. But I realized very soon that these got entirely too long to leave in the scene. At that point, I was like “You know what? I’ll lengthen a lot of these and make them all drabbles. Post them separately.”
> 
> These can be read without having read Rewritten, but in case you don’t:  
> And SPOILER WARNING BELOW, but as this thing is itself spoilery _anyway...._ :P  
>  In the main story, Dean gets launched back to late 2009 and changes things with Cas so that they’ve been together this whole time, because he feels that with the Mark in his current time, it’s entirely too painful to start something _now_. But since he’s in the past anyway…

**Rewritten – Dean’s Memory Drabbles**

The night the Colt had failed to harm Lucifer. Back at Bobby’s, still raw from Ellen and Jo’s deaths, he and Cas had had slow, comforting sex that was more about grounding each other than anything else. Reassuring each other that the day hadn’t taken _everything_ , even though it did steal two friends and a huge amount of hope. Cas’s hands on the backs of Dean’s upper arms, stroking gently as if Dean was in danger of breaking more than he already had; the way Cas’s voice was softer that night, almost a whisper, when he called out Dean’s name.

Dealing with Famine, during the time that Cas had gone all burger bingey. How even though Dean really wasn’t that hungry, he’d made sure to snag one out of Cas’s grip every so often and bite into it just to tease him. How proud Dean was when Cas said how happy the burgers made him because _dammit, I’m such a good influence on you_. How Dean had bought Cas both the gamble chocolate and the chalky hearts, because he didn’t know which he would like – and then it turned out Cas didn’t care for either, but he _loved_ cherry cordials.

The alleyway in the rain. In Dean’s original timeline, he remembers there being a full inch between their mouths (at most). In these new memories, no such boundary existed, and the only time they _were_ separated was when Cas was roaring at him. Cas furiously kissing him, pressing Dean flat against the wall and rutting against his hip. The way Dean’s head spun with the shock of how hot dominant Cas was. How weak he felt against him; how he couldn’t get enough; the way Cas had dragged him behind a Dumpster and gently jerked him off before Dean reciprocated.

That last night before Dean told Sam he was okay with the plan. They knew it was their last time; things would be different even if Sam _did_ win and he and Cas survived. The sex that night was more for comfort – Cas pressing kisses into Dean’s chest, his touch reassuring and grounding. He was somehow able to hold Dean back from the panic always ready to sweep him into full on terror. And when Dean had finally broken down in tears afterward, how tightly Cas had held him as he fell asleep, knowing how painful any words would be.

Feeling as insecure as a seventh grader, watching Meg kiss Cas that time. He was embarrassingly, pointlessly jealous, although he knew that Cas loved _him_. Dean also felt smug joy when he remembered again that _he’d_ been Cas’s first kiss, and a rush of pride and envy when Meg said that thing about feeling clean. And oh, going for a threefer on the deadly sins there, because he was more than a little turned on remembering the last time he and Cas made out. Not to mention the anger he’d had to tamp down when Meg first made her move.

Dean staring at some actor named Misha who was identical to Cas but completely different in personality, mannerisms, even _voice_. How bewildering it had been to see the same untidy black hair, bright blue eyes, and trench coat – but although objectively, this Misha was good-looking, he was not the man that Dean loved, even if he did do a dead-on impression at first. There was simply nothing there of _his_ Cas. The overwhelming rush of relief when they got back to their own universe and he was once again impressed and intimidated by Cas threateningly flashing his wings to Raphael. 

Standing outside of a circle of flames, Cas brokenly staring back at him. How violently it had hurt – it shocked Dean just how _much_ it hurt in both sets of memories, although in this timeline, it was definitely even worse. The flare of sympathy he’d felt for Sam after Ruby’s treachery in that moment, gazing at the circle of flames visible within Cas’s blue eyes and the guilty helplessness written all over his face. The splintering inside his chest as he and Sam ran on Cas’s orders, pausing to look back one last time at the man who betrayed them.

That moment when Cas, drunk on souls, had declared himself God and demanded worship. The lead in his stomach and the flash of heat up the back of his neck, the panic, the shock, the fear, the _Don’t do this, Cas, please_. And how he’d thought he was already as scared as he could be when Cas shoved them away after returning – but how wrong he’d realized he was as the Leviathans took control. The total lack of life in Cas’s (no, _not_ Cas’s) blue eyes – the deadness, false fervor, and the _Cas is – ah! – He’s dead._ That creepy grin…

Losing him for so long after that. He’s not surprised to know that the knife-edged pain in his chest is exactly the same in these memories as it was in the original ones. And at this moment, Dean realizes for the thousandth time that he’s _always_ been in love with Cas. He’d just been more accepting and overt in this time, not caring that Sam saw him sleep with the coat under his pillow, the smell of Cas’s vessel muffled under Leviathan ooze, blood, and reservoir water but still there enough for Dean to find a small measure of comfort.

Seeing Cas living as an amnesiac faith healer – that moment when Cas stared up at him, wearing a blue sweater that made his eyes look impossibly bluer. Standing with a _wife_ and looking at Dean in uncertain recognition. Dean wondering if Daphne drew the same sounds from Cas at night that _he_ used to, jealousy almost consuming him entirely. How unfair it was to find Cas again under such circumstances – how on Earth could Dean bring him back to the mess he’d made? To his mistakes, and the soul-crushing guilt that would invariably result? Was their bond really worth _that_? 

The explosion of hope when he and Sam visited Cas in the asylum, when Cas turned to smile at them, seemingly _okay_ , finally. Dean knew he must look ridiculous as he smiled back as if he’d been starving and Cas was pie or something, but he couldn’t help it. And then the _implosion_ as it hit him just how broken Cas really was, all autistic nature interests and cringing like he’d been abused. It took everything Dean had not to hug him as tightly as he could, desperate to protect him, but he’d known Cas couldn’t be scared like that.

Finding him again that day in Purgatory, honest to God feeling weak in his knees when he finally saw Cas by the river. Striding over, throwing his arms around Cas and then kissing him, not giving a damn what Benny would say about it later. Realizing Cas wasn’t kissing back; belatedly realizing that he hadn’t hugged back either. The streak of panic and uncertainty when Cas admitted he _knew_ Dean was praying every day and never answered – what had Dean done to repel him? The burn of shock and love inside him when Cas admitted the real reason he ran.

Cas appearing in the bathroom behind Dean, the silence almost too loud. And the look on Cas’s face as he smiled at Dean’s shock and kissed him, their hands threading together before they separated to let Sam know Cas had returned. Cas’s expression when he glanced up at Dean and complained with a subtle smile about being “dirty,” silently hinting for Dean to join him in the shower. The regret as Dean had turned him down with a line about “Purgatory will do that to you,” but seriously, Sam was right the fuck there and they _did_ have a case.

Oklahoma City and the case Fred Jones had been involved in. Sitting next to Cas, their hands entwined as he discussed his worries about heaven and thoughts of suicide. The way Dean held him tightly after that for a few seconds, wanting – _needing_ – to hold onto Cas, to reassure him that he was here, not still stuck in Purgatory, not gone yet. The kissing they’d started engaging in before Sam walked in on them, laughing and teasing them about forgetting he was coming back. The plea in Cas’s eyes not to tell Sam what he’d said, and Dean’s reluctant nod.

Cas forced to leave _again_ after he was forced to kill Samandriel, the trickle of panic inside Dean’s stomach suddenly rushing into a full blown torrent because something was very, very wrong, and this Cas was not _his_ Cas. What the _hell_ was going on? Would this be the time Cas didn’t come back? And then the hard surface of the Impala behind him, his shirts dragging up along the small of his back as he collapsed to the ground, Sam dropping to his knees next to him, Dean unable to comprehend a word he was asking through the shock.

Dean realizes, startled, that the time in a crypt with Cas beating him nearly to death is almost identical to his memories in the previous timeline. Naomi’s mind-control, Dean’s staunch refusal to leave, daring Cas to kill him before he could take the angel tablet. Dean didn’t even say “I love you” in this reality, something that’s still out of his reach (at least for now). The only difference he can recognize is the kiss Cas pressed to his forehead as he leaned forward to heal Dean’s injuries, and a barely-audible “Love you” he possibly could have imagined Cas saying.

Waiting for a Cupid at a bar, their hands intertwined and a single brief kiss. The time they’d taken in the far stall of the bathroom for one last fuck, Cas conjuring up a bottle of lube from somewhere. He’d held Dean off the ground against the wall, Dean making a mental note to check the back of his jacket for dust later before deciding he really didn’t care and fisting his hands in the lapels of Cas’s trench coat to pull him as close as possible. How Cas’s kisses were slightly bitter, because it was (supposedly) the _last time_.

The stupid hope in his chest when the situation with the reaper was over, and they’d gotten Cas home to the Bunker safe and sound and alive. The looks they’d exchanged through the rearview mirror, both of them anticipating the reunion sex when Sam went to sleep. And then Gadreel speaking up, the coward, saying he couldn’t stay if Cas was there. They’d never even had a chance for one kiss. The pain of Gadreel’s ultimatum was _so_ small, though, compared to having to tell Cas. The look on his face alone… That’s yet another cut that will _never_ heal. 

The Gas ‘N’ Sip. Dean outright flirting with Cas because it was just easier than apologizing at first. How desperately he’d wanted to kiss him, or even drag him to the nearest motel room. Nora interrupting to confirm things for that night – which Cas hurriedly clarified was only babysitting after seeing the look on Dean’s face. And later, the way Dean had fucked Cas into a cheap motel mattress so hard that his hips ached afterward. Cas kissing him goodbye the next morning, but then staring into the car like he was a hair’s breadth from asking Dean to stay.

Giving the completely unhelpful speech at that ridiculous purity club meeting by describing sex with women (the majority of his experiences till Cas). Dean had started out merely trying to wind everyone up for the sake of dicking with them – pun kind of intended – but halfway through, he’d realized he was thinking of Cas and turning _himself_ on too. That’s when he’d had to cut things off. Stumbling over the Casa Erotica DVD in Suzy Lee’s dresser drawer, her flirting with him and Dean feeling bad but knowing he couldn’t. Because truth be told? All he still wanted was Cas.

The case where Cas had given them the most obvious names _ever_ , and Dean barely keeping himself from tackling him when Cas had matter of factly explained that he knew their aliases were usually those of popular musicians. His obliviousness and attempted helpfulness were absolutely goddamn endearing. Hanging out at the bar, Cas being all earnest and Dean being about one sentence away from begging him to come back, if it wouldn’t have complicated the Gadreel situation. And the guilt hitting him all over again at the reminder of that fucking _look_ Cas had that night – the one _Dean_ caused.

Walking in to greet Cas with his little group of underlings, holding him too tightly because it had been too much time away from each other. And the more embarrassing and high school part of the back of his mind wanted to pause the moment for exactly as long, or at least as long as it took to remember Cas still came back. The short press of their lips, Cas’s hand briefly brushing along Dean’s jawline. Sam’s amused exhalation behind Dean reminding them they had an audience before they pulled away so Sam could have a turn to hug Cas.

Dying slowly in Sam’s arms, worrying about how his brother would cope afterward, how much it actually physically hurt, how relieved he was in a way because better to die human than live with what the Mark was making him (and now, having been on the other side, Dean thinks he was right). And how much he wanted to see Cas again before he died, his thoughts beating out _Cas – Cas – Cas_ in time with the blood pulsing from the wound, but knowing how devastated Cas would be since his faltering grace likely wouldn’t have been enough to save Dean.

Blackest rage and bitter resignation as he held his ground before Sam, a knife to his throat, daring his brother to do his worst because fuck it, he was dead inside and nothing mattered anyway. The restraint of two arms suddenly clenched tight around him and preventing any escape. Dean unable to break free, the fury roaring out of him. And at the same time, the recognition in the back of his mind that he was seriously impressed by Cas’s badassery. Distantly, he’d wondered why they’d never taken advantage of this before he was a demon – because holy shit, hot.

The surprise that the high school couple _playing_ a couple were together in real life. Sam teasing him over how to pronounce his and Cas’s portmanteaud name “destiel” (Dean still doesn’t think either Dee-stiel or Deh-stiel sounds right). Teasing Sam about his suggesting Samstiel or Sastiel. It was a weird, welcome break from the pressure of worrying about the Mark, the mirth soaking into his veins. Calling Cas afterward and having to explain the point of names being jammed together, laughing at Cas’s insistance that “pronouncing both names separately isn’t that much effort, Dean.” Making plans to meet up soon.

Talking to Cas alone at the restaurant, brushing their hands together, thinking how obscene Cas’s gaze had been just before he kissed him. God, the way he looked at him and disagreed after Dean said he was a bad role model… Damn, it had been all Dean could do not to sweep off the table and pull Cas onto it with him. And realizing how painful it _would_ actually be for Cas to kill him (how painful it would be if _he_ had to kill _Cas_ ), but the bigger picture was so much more important than the two of them. 

More recently, sitting in the shotgun seat of the Impala and complaining about being fourteen years old again to Sam. An offhand, seriously annoyed reference to uncontrolled, unwarranted erections (dear God, he hadn’t missed that part of being a teenager). Sam being Sam and hitting the nail on the head, asking point blank how many times he’d thought of Cas that day, and maybe that was why. The childish blushing Dean felt in his face when he recognized that Sam was correct. Well, mostly correct. Wishing they’d had time during the case for him to sneak off and jerk it.

Sam casually mentioning to Dean during the college case that “nothing ever really gets deleted from the Internet,” and Dean freezing for a second before remembering he should probably act normal because Sam’s always been able to read him like a book. Two AM texts and pictures flickering through his brain, Dean thinking he should probably just burn every single one of his phones and start anew. At the same time, though, thinking damned if he wants to stop sending nudes and awkwardly-worded sexts with Cas while they’re separated. Wondering if Charlie would know some trick to encrypt their messages.

More recently, Dean had attempted to break things off with Cas because he’d been putting it off for too long. The fact of the matter was that he’d known he might die fighting Cain, and he was trying to make things easier. Cas had had none of it, saying Dean _could_ do it and he wished Dean had the same faith in himself as he and Sam. And that if he couldn’t help Dean see that, then at least he could stay with him until the end, whatever happened, whether that came during the fight with Cain or later on.


End file.
